


This Hour Today

by stardropdream



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's the only one who looks at him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Hour Today

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ October 6, 2012. 
> 
> Written with the prompt, Infinity porn and it seemed unfair that up until this point, it was always Sakura getting all the action. Son needs to be able to sleep with his dad, too!? (... Welp, that was fun to write.) Anyway. Somehow managed to make this Syao topping Kuro, whee.

The swords clash together with a loud, sharp jolt, and Syaoran falls back a few inches, knees bent and body poised to attack or dodge – whichever is necessary. Kurogane moves forward to attack, light on his feet despite his bulk – Syaoran knows how to map his movements from experience, but each attack still comes as a surprise. It is what Kurogane was trained to do, so that isn’t as surprising – that, above all, he remains elusive in battle. All the same, he thinks that Kurogane is a little scary when he doesn’t hold back.  
  
“That’s enough,” Kurogane says after a quarter of an hour of Kurogane’s attacks that Syaoran kept dodging. “It’s not good if you won’t use the weapon, kid.”   
  
“I know,” Syaoran says, frowning and feeling automatically foolish before reminding himself that Kurogane isn’t attempting to shame him, just stating what he sees with that stark truthfulness that could so easily be dismissed as cruelty when, really, it’s just the bluntness of his character. All the same, Syaoran shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not what I’m used to.”  
  
Kurogane grunts, leaning back a little, blunt side of his sword balancing against his shoulder. It’s a shorter weapon than he’s undoubtedly used to – Ginryuu and Souhi both being long swords – but he’s managing. Managing better than Syaoran is, in any case.  
  
“You can’t adapt to a weapon if you don’t use it. It’ll do that Princess no good to have a pawn with no offense, only defense.”   
  
Syaoran nods, frowning at the mention of Sakura. It’d been four days since she last spoke to him, even longer since she looked him in the eye. He blames himself. He isn’t the one she longs for, after all – interacting with him could only be unbearably painful. They’d all landed in Infinity recently, but already Syaoran knows they’ve paid a lot to be here. He isn’t sure if the price is worth it.  
  
Kurogane’s hand falls on top of Syaoran’s head, heavy but familiar, as if he can guess where Syaoran’s thoughts have wandered.   
  
“Don’t be afraid to move forward,” he says, dropping his hand and nodding to the dual short-swords Syaoran holds in his hands. “To understand your weapon you have to connect with it.”  
  
Syaoran nods. “Right.”  
  
“So connect with it,” Kurogane instructs, and with a flex of his hand, his sword lobs off his shoulder, spinning into his grip as he dives forward, a short swipe heading for Syaoran.  
  
Instead of dodging this time, Syaoran meets him head on with the harsh clang of steel against steel.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
After long days of training, they begin to move as fluid – training becomes second nature. And though he’ll never say it aloud, for it’d only make Kurogane blush shyly and shift in that uncomfortable way of his, Syaoran is grateful that Kurogane has accepted him so easily. In a way that Sakura and Fay have not – and it is painful, though Syaoran can’t blame them for avoiding him in the evenings. The two of them keep to themselves, most days, avoiding Kurogane and even Mokona, too. He doesn’t ever let on, but he can see the tension in Kurogane’s shoulders, which only hitch up more when he leaves Fay’s room, old sweatband pressing against the self-inflicted wound on his wrist, his eyes faraway and face twisted in frustration.   
  
At least when training, they can forget for a moment. Everything becomes equal – there is only the clash of swords, the thrill of the movement. Fay does not join the training, but in the arena he seems to fit in perfectly with the patterns of attack Kurogane and Syaoran create, and together Kurogane and Fay are a dynamic criss-cross of silent understanding, of knowing one another’s moves before even they know it themselves. There’s a kind of beauty to it. Syaoran thinks it’s the aftermath of fighting side-by-side in Yasha’s army, the way that Kurogane and Fay seem to shift together in tandem movement without ever having to exchange a word. It’s a stark difference between this togetherness and the forced distance off the chessboard.   
  
If he focuses on the beauty of symmetry, he can forget how easily it all breaks apart, once the winner is called out.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
Syaoran pants and wheezes, sucking in air desperately. He buckles over, hands on his knees, trying not to think – just be. But he’s exhausted and he knows it, his body pushed to its limit. He’s training himself too hard, too much.  
  
But it’s the only thing that feels normal anymore. He thinks it’s the same for Kurogane, too, otherwise he would have stopped all this long ago. Training gives him the opportunity to focus on himself, to focus entirely in the physical realm – to not let his thoughts wander to Sakura, to how everything is completely broken and even though he wants nothing more than to fix it, he cannot.   
  
Breathing is difficult. But at least he can focus on that.  
  
“She still won’t look at me,” he says, miserable. The words are out before he can even quite manage it, but once he says it, it is a kind of relief.   
  
Kurogane is silent, frowning. His eyes stay on Syaoran and he no longer moves to attack him. He watches. Assesses. That is his way. Syaoran craves it – Kurogane is the only one who really looks at him anymore. The only one who sees him.  
  
He falls to his knees, still breathing heavily, head bowed.  
  
“Kurogane-san?”  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“How can someone stand being lonely?” he says.   
  
He’s too used to being alone, being alone with thoughts and windows to someone else’s life. Somehow this is different. Somehow this is worse – it’s one thing to be disconnected and watching from afar, another thing to be in the thick of it and still completely overlooked and ignored. As if he is not truly there. As if he does not matter. As if everything he’s done has been for absolutely no purpose whatsoever.   
  
He breathes out, “Having no one look at you or talk to you even if you’re right there.”  
  
Kurogane is still looking at him. It’s comforting. He doesn’t expect Kurogane to answer – it’s an answer he himself should have, an answer he should have lived for all these years.   
  
“Don’t focus on that. Just look forward,” Kurogane says after a long pause, sitting down beside Syaoran. “Dwelling on it won’t do you any good.”  
  
“How can you not dwell on it?” Syaoran asks, not meaning to be obstinate but so desperately wanting to understand. “Sakura… I mean, the princess. And Fay-san. They don’t look at you, either.”  
  
Kurogane is silent. He frowns, thoughtful – assessing.   
  
“I need to be strong,” Syaoran says. “I know that. But even so, I… it’s difficult.”   
  
“Those two have decided things on their own,” Kurogane says. “They’re hiding things. Things they don’t want us to see.”  
  
“That may be how it is for you, but for me… I’m something painful.” He tries to smile but knows it’s no use. “I just remind them of what they don’t want to remember.”  
  
He looks up at Kurogane, relieved to see that Kurogane has not looked away from him.  
  
“Those two haven’t learned yet that they you can’t forget. That’s not how it works. Not when it’s all they’ll think of.” He sighs out, obviously frustrated and, Syaoran thinks, hurt. A hurt Kurogane won’t acknowledge. “Just focus on moving forward, kid,” he says again – perhaps that’s all he can say, perhaps that’s the advice he himself needs to follow. “That’s all we can do.”  
  
After a moment, Syaoran nods. “Right.”  
  
Kurogane nods, too, looks like he’ll turn away again, undoubtedly his mind on Fay and Sakura.  
  
Syaoran reaches out and grabs his arm. “Wait…”   
  
And then he blushes immediately.  
  
“Ah… sorry.” He drops his hand and looks down, his face still a bright, guilty red. “It’s just that… No one looks at me, but you always give me your attention.”  
  
“I have no reason not to,” Kurogane says with no hesitation.  
  
This time Syaoran does smile. “Thank you, Kurogane-san.”  
  
And this time Kurogane is the one to blush, but he doesn’t look away.  
  
“Hn.”  
  
Syaoran is still smiling – it’s more smiling than he’s done in months. It’s a relief, and he can see the stress leaving Kurogane’s shoulders, however briefly.  
  
“I’m glad,” Syaoran says. “Really… thank you.”  
  
“Don’t mention it, kid.”  
  
  
\---  
  
  
He starts to long for it, Kurogane’s eyes on him. When he speaks, Kurogane turns to look at him. When he moves, Kurogane glances at him. He knows he’s doing it to reassure Syaoran – let him know that he knows he exists. It means more than Syaoran can express.  
  
But he starts to crave more. Starts to long for the hand on his head, the bump of an elbow hitting into his side to demonstrate his weak stance. Even the smallest hint of a touch becomes what Syaoran craves. For that reassurance, for the solid.  
  
He is Kurogane’s constant companion. He lingers by his side after the princess and Fay retire, he follows him around their apartment, smiles warmly as Mokona and Kurogane share a drink. He is a constant shadow, thrilling in the delight of having Kurogane’s eyes on him, when they happen to glance his way. Syaoran likes to think that Kurogane wants it, too, the reassurance of eyes on him, of company.  
  
That reassurance that they aren’t alone.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
When he leans up and kisses Kurogane, Kurogane pulls away with eyes wide. “What the hell?”  
  
It’s the kind of question from shock. There’s no trace of disgust or anger, as Syaoran feared would be there. He’s just confused, overwhelmed. Not that Syaoran can blame him for the reaction – he, too, is taken aback by his sudden boldness. But it’s become too much for him.   
  
“Please let me touch you, Kurogane-san,” Syaoran says softly. He leans in close, pushes Kurogane down onto the couch gently.  
  
Kurogane continues to stare at him, utterly shocked.   
  
“You—” he begins but is cut off when Syaoran leans in to kiss him again.  
  
“You’re lonely, too,” Syaoran says lightly as Kurogane stares at him. “I can tell, even if you don’t say it.”  
  
“Hey…” he mutters, frowning and blushing.  
  
“Let me?” Syaoran asks, terrified he’ll say no.  
  
There’s a long silence. Syaoran holds his breath, certain that, this time, Kurogane will pull away in disgust. Kurogane looks at him, unrelenting despite the blush in his cheeks, frowning to himself as he studies Syaoran’s expression. Syaoran is lonely, desperate – longs for that reassurance of his existence, of his importance, of his relevance. And he thinks that Kurogane must see that because, after a moment, his eyes flicker away for one shadow of a second and he mutters, “Do what you want.”  
  
Syaoran smiles, relieved, and kisses him again, hand shaking as he touches Kurogane, hands on his shoulders, then arms, then down his chest, lingering. He is still beneath him and Syaoran begins to doubt. But when he pulls away and blinks his eyes open, Kurogane is watching him.  
  
“Thank you,” Syaoran whispers.  
  
Kurogane grunts, grabbing Syaoran’s chin and drawing him in, kissing him with surprising gentleness. A reassurance – he exists, he is solid.  
  
Syaoran fumbles, hands moving down Kurogane’s chest, feeling him tense and relax beneath him. He pulls at Kurogane’s belt, feels him tense up below him.  
  
“Hey,” he says, a warning in his voice.  
  
“Please,” Syaoran says, kisses at his neck and feels him tense up. “It’s okay.”  
  
Kurogane doesn’t protest, but his movements are cautious, guarded. Syaoran moves before Kurogane can change his mind, undoing his belt and sliding his hand beneath his waistline, stroking him once, touch solid, fingers curling snugly around his cock. Kurogane’s breath hitches, but otherwise he makes no sound.  
  
Syaoran hesitates, unsure how else to proceed. He swallows thickly, slowly sinking down to his knees. He pulls out Kurogane’s cock and hesitates further. Kurogane offers no protest, but he’s watching him closely, waiting, tensed.  
  
Syaoran leans forward and pillows his lips against the cockhead. Kurogane makes a strained kind of choking sound, which only encourages Syaoran. His touch is light as he kisses sand licks at the cock, looking up at Kurogane as he strokes him. Kurogane seems torn between looking at him – because that’s what Syaoran wants – and looking away, his inherent shyness almost overwhelming. Syaoran, for his part, looks up at him evenly, blushing more than he ever has in his entire life, taking the tip of his cock into his mouth and sucking lightly.   
  
Kurogane curses softly, eyes falling shut and staying shut. It’s probably easier that way for him.  
  
Syaoran accepts this, but grabs Kurogane’s hand, guiding it to his hair, letting the heavy hand fall on the crown of his head. He glances up to see Kurogane staring at him again, and Syaoran smiles around his cock and lowers his eyes. Kurogane’s fingers curl tight into his hair, holding fast.  
  
Syaoran bobs his head, unable to take too much into his mouth but willing to try, and the hand tugging softly as his hair is a good motivator.  
  
It doesn’t take long before they work out a steady pace. Syaoran moves his tongue and lips against his cock, and Kurogane’s hands guiding him with surprising gentleness. Syaoran feels Kurogane restraining the urge to jerk his hips up.  
  
“Hey,” Kurogane says a short time later, breathless, a warning.  
  
Syaoran hums around the cock in his mouth but doesn’t pull away. He sucks until he hears Kurogane’s shuddered moan. He comes in Syaoran’s mouth and Syaoran does his best to swallow it all. He chokes, though, coughing a little and ducking his head, cum falling from his mouth.  
  
“S- sorry,” he coughs lightly.  
  
“Don’t,” Kurogane says, sounding strained.  
  
Syaoran nods his head, standing to his feet and placing his hands on Kurogane’s shoulders. The hand in his hair drops down, settles into the small of his back.  
  
“Kurogane-san…” Syaoran begins, then trails off, unsure what to say. Kurogane tilts his head back a little, looking up at him, face red. So Syaoran leans in and kisses him gently.  
  
Syaoran moves his hand, sliding them over his shoulders and down his arms. He touches Kurogane’s wrist and guides him. Silently, Kurogane obeys, undoing the belts of Syaoran’s pants and stroking him with, again, that same surprising gentleness. Syaoran gasps into the kiss, his hips rolling up into the touch.  
  
Syaoran leans in, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead against Kurogane’s. After a moment, Kurogane’s eyes flicker open and lock on Syaoran’s. He doesn’t look away as he strokes Syaoran, and Syaoran craves that attention, thrives in it. It only makes him harder.  
  
Kurogane doesn’t look away or stop his movements until Syaoran comes with a short cry and a few unsteady jerks of his hips. Syaoran’s eyelids flutter, mouth parted in a choked cry. Once he’s spent, he collapses, boneless, against Kurogane, who catches him easily.  
  
They stay like that, together, the only place they aren’t alone.


End file.
